


The Sparkle Never Dies

by kipsi



Category: Casino Royale (2006)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Bloodplay, Dubious Consent, Knifeplay, M/M, Torture, sadistic Le Chiffre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-22 12:44:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/913371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kipsi/pseuds/kipsi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hated it. He truly loathed it, how those bright eyes sparkled with determination. Those blue eyes were given to the wrong man. It should have been him, he should have had them, those unbreakable eyes, that shone magnificently, no matter what happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sparkle Never Dies

**Author's Note:**

> There's not enough fics about these two and we have to change that, so here's something. This is dedicated to **vaeltaa** , who gave me the inspiration.  
> Just a warning tho; this is the most disturbing thing I've ever written. :D

He hated it. He truly loathed it, how those bright eyes sparkled with determination. Those blue eyes were given to the wrong man. It should have been him, he should have had them, those unbreakable eyes, that shone magnificently, no matter what happened.

It wasn't fair at all, how he had to bear the burden of having these eyes he had, his left eye being defective, damaged, weeping blood always at the wrong times. It had sometimes given him assistance with clients, whom knew nothing and were just superstitious, but other times it just gave him trouble.

Seeing those vibrant, blue eyes right in front of him, surfaced a ball of rage out of him, and he wanted to destroy the man for what he had. He wanted to see the shine die, just slip out of the eyes, and feel better for being the one who had gotten to do it, to end it all.

But it wasn't as easy as he had imagined. Getting Bond beaten and tied up had been easy, but now when he lashed him in the darkness of the basement, he saw that the man's eyes just shone more with every whip. They brightened up every time, when the next strike struck and burned the skin, leaving red scratch marks behind, leaving the man screaming in agony.

He glared at those eyes, now wrinkled with amusement, sparkling, with no pain in them at all, the shine as pure as a serene ocean, undisturbed and calm. He fantasized about it, carving those sinfully beautiful eyes out of the man's head, leaving empty eye sockets to stare at him, while that amused smirk still played on his victim's lips.

It was the only way to have them, to own them, and see the man himself break, stealing his most valuable features, and the man could do nothing about it. Bond would be at his mercy, whimpering and screaming, when he would press the blade into his flesh and carve, listening to the man's suffering with a cruel smile on his lips.

He struck Bond again with the rope, earning a shout from the sweaty man, who kept his gaze straight ahead, not blinking his eyes once. He admired the stubbornness of the man, but he hated how his own eyes strayed always to the sparkling blue ones, making his rage boil more. He was going to end this, sooner or later, and then he was going to be at ease, not anymore a prisoner of his raging, intense feelings.

It was only a matter of time when he could get those shiny eyes to himself. He would store them, put them into a clear glass jar, place it somewhere where only he could watch them, admire silently how blue and bright they were. He would be free from seeing them again without wanting to, unexpectedly, and it made him feel blissful. He felt powerful, having this man here, right in front of him, bare and gasping for air, painfully aware that he had no way to escape, but to accept all of the terrors that were to occur to him.

After carving the man's eyes out, it would be a truly astonishing sight. He would watch as the man's rich blood dripped down from his bloody eye sockets, smearing his face red, loving how it painted the flesh with a new tone. He had to admit that blood suited Bond beautifully. The scratches from the rope were shallow, but giving a more powerful strike he could see blood leaking from the cuts, following them with his eyes, hungry for more.

He wanted to taste that blood, savour its copper flavor on his tongue. The whole image of the man, helpless without his eyes, right in front of him, gave him a shiver of pleasure. He would get what he wanted, soon.

Gagging the man was pointless, and he wanted to hear the screams, when he started to act out his plan, the blue eyes too distracting and untrustful to express any pain in them. He took the rope with him and made his way to the only table that stood in the far corner of the basement, and placed it on it, at the same time retrieving his loved blade he had seen with his mind's eye, leaving warm blood behind with every slash.

He walked back to his victim and smiled at the state of him, sweaty and bruised with the small smudges of blood. He was sure that the slits he was about to make would sting. The sweat would drip to the wounds, and make him gasp with every intake of breath, the deeper the cut, the more painful it would be.

Bond saw the blade in his hand, and the clear blue eyes shone again with that same glint that made him feel revolted and furious. He approached the man and took a forceful hold of his chin, his grip hard as steel, when he made the first cut on the man's cheek, starting with a shallow one, proceeding then to sink the blade in more under the right eye.

Blood streamed down from the cut, and he felt and heard a sharp intake of breath, but his eyes were fixed on the blue ones, which showed no pain at all. Bond's lips were formed into a smile, screaming with unspoken insults and mocks, and the man was practically begging to be slashed. It was only fair to give him what he wanted, and so he sank the blade in and carved, the blood spilling on his hand and on the man's cheek. The scream got stuck in his victim's throat, when sweat poured to the wound, and he watched, fascinated, how his fantasies were coming true.

It was breathtaking, feeling the warmth of the blood on his own skin, smelling the strong, copper scent of it. But the most stunning sight was Bond himself, bathing in his own blood, just as he had imagined it. He smeared the blood more on the man's skin, his fingers already getting sticky with it, as he painted with the redness of it, admiring how it glowed on the tan skin.

The man was clearly in pain, but he didn't show it otherwise than in his ragged gasps. He smirked and closed the distance again, picking the blade up and taking a lick of it, tasting the blood he had hungered for. He was going to take his time with the eyes. He didn't want to rush things, he didn't want his fun to end too soon. He was going to enjoy this with its fullest.

This thought in mind, he brought the blade on the man's neck, sliding it then to his right shoulder and chest, leaving cuts behind with every move, letting the rich blood spill free. It was truly such a waste, to have this finely shaped body, when he was going to destroy the man with it.

Those eyes he so loathed, watched his every move, undisturbed, glowing in the darkness that surrounded them. He mused if he should just take them now, seeing that no matter what he did, they didn't break. He saw that image again, eye sockets weeping blood, just like his own left eye, but with much richer amount of the splendid redness. He wanted to do it now, see that fantasy of his right in front of him, and watch the man scream.

He took another grip of the man's chin, and stabbed, starting first from the right eye, already sore from the earlier assault. He smiled cruelly, working the blade into the flesh, and watched how the sparkling eyes started to weep from the pain. Bond ground his teeth together at first, but the pain was intense and with another twist of the blade he got a cry out of him.

The man was panting, when he finished with the first eye, now admiring it on his blood-stained palm. He would get the other one soon, and then he would keep them just like he had imagined. Bond's left eye was leaking tears, when he turned his gaze up to see his handiwork. He saw how the man still smirked, even after all this. It was clear that he was trained for torture, to endure pain and agony, but it made all of this just much more interesting. He waited thrilled for the moment when the man would break, and it was worth waiting. Those walls Bond had built were coming undone slowly, but surely, and he was prepared to wait. The money was just a bonus with all of this, and he was sure that he wouldn't get a word out of him. The man didn't talk before, and now with his right eye gone he wasn't going to talk either.

He placed the eyeball on a clear glass container on his side, watching as the liquid rinsed the blood off of it, leaving a faint tinge of the color on the liquid. The eyeball itself was flawless, shining just as blue as it had before.

He was going to slice that left eye out of its socket as well, to complete his fantasy, and watch the man fall into misery, blind and bound, having to trust only in his remaining senses. He brought the blade beside Bond's left eye and smirked, starting to lower it into the flesh, when the man turned his head sharply away from it. He forced the man's head straight with his iron grip and frowned.

”Now, now, Mr. Bond. We don't want to harm your facial features more, now do we? Keep still, or I'll mess this up,” he murmured.

He received a glare from the man, but even still he saw how the blue shone in the darkness, and with that he slashed, getting a scream out of his victim, who proceeded then to bite his own lower lip, breaking the skin with the force. And there it was, his glorious, blood-stained creation, right in front of him, panting with the pain he had reflected.

Blood flowed down from the empty sockets, staining the man's cheeks and then his chest, tripping finally on the cold floor. He was hungry for the taste of it, the earlier flavor of it already fading from his tongue, so he leaned in and licked, letting his tongue sweep down from the hole to the cheek, tasting copper with a hint of salty sweat. He heard an intake of breath, when his tongue was pressed to the skin, and he smirked, knowing that the man had no idea what he would do now. Without his eyes, Bond couldn't predict anything, and it brought a powerful bliss out of him.

This was going to be better than he had imagined, having Bond laid bare and vulnerable, with no eyesight to trust. He wanted to savour that blood, have the man frightened and waiting for his next move. He proceeded with sliding his tongue down the man's neck, drinking in the blood, earning a gasp, when he sunk his teeth into the flesh, biting down to draw blood.

He licked the wound clean and returned to follow the trails of blood on the tan skin, swirling his tongue right beside the man's left nipple, leaving bites behind with every suck. Bond groaned with every assault, and bit his already swollen and bloody lip.

He smirked up at his eyeless face and bit down hard, getting another ragged breath out of him. A shiver ran down his spine, as he leant away and saw the bruised form of the man, dried blood clinging to his flesh, fresh redness already flowing down and painting it anew. He took in the sight of his victim and smiled cruelly. It seemed that despite all of the agony, Bond was enjoying this after all, just as much as he was.

Bond was startled, when he kicked the chair he was tied to backwards, sending the man flying on the floor, hitting his head on the process. He heard a hiss from the man, and he smiled smugly, as he was now being able to surprise him without even meaning to. He made his way over to Bond and hovered over him, amused.

”My, you really are enjoying yourself, aren't you, Mr. Bond?” he asked with a smile, while tracing his forefinger on the man's bloody chest. He bent down to lick the blood, feeling how the pleasure traveled to his already hardened cock, pressing the front of his dark suit pants.

”Go to Hell,” he heard a ragged gasp beneath him, and he smirked, closing his lips around the man's left nipple, and sucked the copper taste of it into his mouth, making the man groan.

He was going to lay this man's walls bare, with time and precision. He could already see them breaking, leaving behind a wreck of a man, crying for forgiveness. He loved that miserable look on his face, and he was going to get it out of him.

The smell of blood surrounded him, when he leant in and dipped his right hand fingers into the empty eye socket, getting them damp with the blood, stroking the edge of the socket. He could feel how Bond tensed and stopped breathing momentarily, as he watched how his fingers were now coated with the warm fluid.

He withdrew his fingers and slid his hand down on the man's cheek, dropping his both hands then to Bond's hip bones, grinding him forcefully on the floor, spreading his legs. The man on the floor huffed, tensing when he felt a finger pierce into him. The blood coated finger worked its way in and out of the man, and he heard every painful groan, as he worked another finger into his victim, earning a loud gasp.

He watched how his bloody fingers disappeared into the warm heat of the body in front of him, and he could feel the shivers running down Bond's spine, the man's cock pulsed with blood. He listened to the man's moans, as he bit his inner thigh, Bond giving a jolt and an angry hiss. He buried his fingers into the man knuckle-deep, adding third one in the process, and started a torturous pace, leaving Bond gasping for breath.

He watched the man writhe with his fingers deep inside of him, biting his bloody lip and trying to keep quiet without much success. He smiled cruelly and withdrew his fingers, leaving Bond panting on the floor, as he started to work his own suit pants off. He was already painfully hard, as he had gotten a bit carried away with his imagination and the blood play.

Finally getting his pants and silk boxers out of his way, he wrapped his hand around himself and shivered, smearing the pre-come with his thumb. He wasn't going to use more lubrication than he already had, he mused, as he watched the still panting man on the floor. The blood truly brought out Bond's features more, and the whole idea of fucking him in that puddle was terribly arousing.

He could see that Bond was trying to listen to him, to predict his next move, but he didn't give anything away, when he was already buried deep into him, knocking the breath out of the man with a start. He fucked him deep and hard, receiving a gasp and groan with every thrust, the blood on the man's chest staining his dark dress shirt with it.

Bond shoved his head back, when he buried his teeth into his neckline, sucking and nibbling the sweaty skin, still tasting the copper of the dried blood on him. The man moaned, when he sucked the torn bottom lip into his mouth, assaulting it more with bites. He increased the pace of his thrusts, and Bond came undone, his toes curling with the intensity of it. He felt how the man climaxed, and after a couple more thrusts he came right inside of the man.

He stayed still for a moment, regaining his surroundings, until he pulled out of him. He rose up and left the man gasping on the floor, as he retrieved his inhaler out of his suit jacket, exhaled, then taking a deep inhale of it, regaining his breath. He turned to the man, seeing how his come had mixed with the blood, dripping down on the floor. Bond was a mess, and he smiled at the broken man, when he had re-dressed and picked up the glass container that held the sparkling blue eyes.

” _See_ you later, Mr. Bond.”


End file.
